


Contributing to the Problem

by kettish



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, BDSM, Belly Kink, Dildos, Dirty Talk, F/F, Fem!Bagginshield, I do what I want, Knotting, Light Impact Play, Light impregnation kink, M/M, Masochism, Multi, OT3, Object Insertion, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sadism, Scent Kink, Size Kink, Slapping, Tattoos, Without the impregnation, Wolf/bunny au, fem!Bilbo, fem!Thorin, fuck the GOP, pain play, safe sex practices, smut prompts, species difference, tiny hobbit and smol dworf doin' the dirty on the reg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 01:19:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7487748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kettish/pseuds/kettish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>striving-artist and I were talking about how the Republican National Convention has declared internet pornography a PUBLIC HEALTH CRISIS, and as she said, "what is smut if not literary porn?" We agreed we'd both love to contribute to aforementioned crisis, and started taking the filthiest, sexiest prompts possible. Regardless of your political inclinations, smut is smut, and smut is good!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. oishii

Prompt from liasangria on tumblr: Ok how about some good old fashioned species difference? due to some weird (and previously unknown) genetic quirk, hobbit come tastes REALLY GOOD to dwarves, and now thorin (and dwalin?) can’t get enough of sucking bilbo’s cock. bonus points if you make it dwagginshield, where thorin and dwalin get a little competitive over who gives the best blowjob

It went a tad sideways on the competition portion, but I thought it wasn't bad overall! And it ended being like... 2.1k words. So there's that.

Not beta'd, like, at all--I pretty much read this, did a spell check, and ran.

 

They’d been on the road a good few months now, and Thorin’s opinion of the hobbit had changed significantly. (Dwalin, of course, had no compunction about the small fellow from the get-go; he’d been sucking hobbit cock since two weeks out from the Shire, to Thorin’s disgust. He and Dwalin had been lovers for a long, long, time, but had never stopped each other from pursuing other interests...of course, Thorin had never felt so strongly against one of Dwalin’s dalliances before, either.) Finally, finally though, Thorin got it: he understood that Bilbo Baggins was in fact someone to be appreciated and enjoyed, and he’d approached him with the intention of doing just that.

 

“You want to what?” Bilbo had squeaked. Thorin frowned.

“You have shared yourself with Dwalin many times since the journey began,” he said cautiously, “Unless I have been much mistaken, and Dwalin has been telling tales.”

“No, we have, I just,” Bilbo swallowed, “well, I didn’t think you’d be interested, honestly.” Thorin frowned, feeling a bit guilty about that.

“I was wrong, Bilbo,” Thorin said. “I was wrong, all this way, and I like to think I’ve seen the right of it now. Dwalin was right. You are worthy of pursuit, and you would honor me with your attention.” Bilbo stared, but then beamed an absolutely brilliant smile.

“I would very much like that!” he said happily, and immediately unbuttoned his trousers, pulling his cock out and standing there grinning like a loon.

Thorin stared.

There was a long moment where both looked at each other, uncomprehending.

“Do, um...do you not want to…” Bilbo tried. Thorin frowned.

“I am accustomed to a bit more foreplay,” Thorin said, wondering what was happening. 

“Oh dear gods yes,” Bilbo gasped, stuffing it back in and jumping up to kiss Thorin. Bilbo kissed like the crash of a tree being felled, or a landslide, or some other similar large loud natural occurrence.

“Mahal, halfling,” Thorin gasped as he finally broke away, “what in Arda just--”

“Dwalin never wants to kiss, or play, really,” Bilbo murmured between licking and nipping at Thorin’s jaw and neckline, hands busy trying to find out how to get under all Thorin’s armor. “Bastard just dives right in every time. I’d assumed it was a dwarven thing, actually. Sorry for being a tit.” He grasped Thorin’s dick through his pants and Thorin felt very forgiving. 

But hang on. That didn’t particularly sound like Dwalin. In all of their times laying together, Dwalin had enjoyed the entire affair, start to finish, and hadn’t ever...well, dived for his dick. Thorin devoted a small part of the back of his mind to working that little mystery over, and spent the rest on memorizing the little sounds Bilbo made when Thorin pinched his nipple through his shirt or slid a leg between his thighs for him to grind against.

Thorin finally managed to undo the stupid, tiny buttons on Bilbo’s stupid, tiny pants and slid his cock out, then quickly freed his own and pressed them together, groaning low in his throat as he wrapped a hand around them and gave a pump. Thorin had a wonderfully thick cock, he knew, and ended up needing both hands when he stroked them both. He and Bilbo gasped and ground against each other and used hands to touch and caress and pinch and roll as they kissed until Bilbo came with a small cry. 

Feeling a bit mischievous, Thorin brought his messy, wet hand up to his mouth with a sultry look down at his new lover and licked--

Dear sweet Aule in his Forge, what the actual fuck that was fucking delicious

It was sweet with a savory backtaste, sort of like the brown sugar cookies his sister made in a way, but with an earthier, savory, more organic note to it that grounded it and made it just, just, what the fuck was going on Thorin would gladly--

“That’s why Dwalin goes right for it,” Thorin muttered aloud, dazed and still aroused, and went back for more. His dick was suddenly gloved in heat and wet and he looked down to see Bilbo kneeling, sucking his cock like he was starving, and without thinking about it he brought his hand back to his mouth to try and lick the last remnants of Bilbo’s spending off his fingers.

The taste, that gorgeous, delicious, perfect damn taste, and Bilbo’s mouth on him undid him in two minutes flat and he gasped as he bent over Bilbos head and came, still sucking on his own hand desperately.

“What in Mahal’s name,” he choked out, and Bilbo grinned up at him, a little moue of distaste as he wiped the corner of his mouth primly with a finger, looking at it critically, and then shrugging and sticking it in his mouth, wrinkling his nose as he did. 

“Not nearly as nice as some of the lads back home, but Dwalin wasn’t any better,” he explained with a shrug when Thorin continued staring. Bilbo watched curiously as Thorin opened his mouth to ask when the sound of underbrush crunching and crashing reached them. Dwalin pushed a large bush aside as he rounded a boulder and found two sword points snapping to face him, albeit one smaller and slower than the other.

“Mahal’s hairy left ass cheek, Bilbo, you couldn’t’ve waited a few minutes?” Dwalin whined when he saw them. Bilbo gave him a little grin and shrugged helplessly.

“When were you going to tell me that Bilbo tastes like a fifteen-course feast?” Thorin demanded, and now it was Dwalin’s turn to look sheepish. 

“Eventually,” he muttered, striding over to Bilbo and manhandling him to the ground easily. Bilbo sputtered a moment and struggled, but Dwalin pushed him down easily and pinned him at the hips. By that point Bilbo seemed to lay back, resigned, whining about lack of foreplay and dwarvish brutes.

“At least you ain’t out for the count for the evening, unless you two’ve been busier than I thought,” Dwalin commented idly as he shoved Bilbo’s pants down, Bilbo trying to be helpful by lifting his hips as much as Dwalin would allow. Thorin boggled at the activity as Dwalin leant down and sucked Bilbo into his mouth, Bilbo groaning, a little hitch to his voice over lingering sensitivity. 

“Wait, he’s not?” Thorin asked suddenly. Dwalin popped off to reply, kneading Bilbo’s thighs and ass gently, running thumbs over his hip bones as he answered.

“Aye, ‘course not. Virile little bastard,” he said affectionately, and laughed as Bilbo swatted him lazily. “Bilbo usually has a few more gos before he’s done. Nice little meal to tide me over! It’s no wonder he eats so much,” he said thoughtfully.

“Then move,” Thorin demanded, planting a foot on Dwalin’s hip and kicking him off. Dwalin shouted, and Bilbo laughed then gasped as Thorin swooped down to take his place, eagerly sucking at Bilbo’s cock and shaft. 

“Gentledwarfs, please,” he giggled as Dwalin thumped Thorin’s shoulder once, then harder, as Thorin just moved faster, “there’s enough of me to go around!” Dwalin finally managed to displace his king and then they were off, kicking and smacking and punching. Bilbo was left erect and pantsless, his cock wet in the open air, eyes wide as he realized they were actually not blowing him anymore. 

Thorin panted, wrestling Dwalin, enjoying the thrill of the competition immensely. He pinned Dwalin with an arm behind his back and couldn’t help the little hitch his hips gave as he bit Dwalin right in the arm, and felt an answering noise below him he’d heard many times before.

“THORIN OAKENSHIELD, YOU STOP BITING DWALIN THIS INSTANT OR I SWEAR NEITHER OF YOU WILL GET ANOTHER LICK!” he howled after it became apparent there’d be no decisive victor, and the two dwarrow halted, Dwalin getting in one more vindictive stomp before they rambled back over. Thorin shoved him once more under the guise of stumbling. Dwalin “tripped” and headbutted him. Thorin bared his teeth and they almost started at it again until Bilbo cleared his throat. 

“Ahem.” He eyed the two fully grown adults before him. 

“He likes it,” Dwalin suddenly blurted, and Thorin scowled at a tree nearby as Bilbo frowned down at the king’s pants, realizing that yes, he really did. Glancing down at Dwalin’s groin, Bilbo figured out that Thorin wasn’t the only one.

“So do you,” Thorin snapped back. Dwalin grinned unrepentently. 

“Get over here and share, for goodness’ sake,” Bilbo said, exasperated. The king and the kingsguard looked at each other a moment, communicating somehow with their eyes, and then both smiled wickedly.

“Of course, bunnel,” Thorin decided. “We’ll take turns.” 

“My turn!” Dwalin crowed, throwing himself down in front of Bilbo and then grasping his hips and rolling onto his back, so that Bilbo was straddling Dwalin’s face. Thorin slid in behind him as Dwalin started nuzzling Bilbo’s balls again, mouthing at them, marveling at their relative hairlessness as Bilbo marveled at the feeling of so much bristle against his thighs.

There was suddenly a cool wet rag against his ass, which startled him, and Dwalin laughed. 

“His highness never could abide a dirty asshole...other than his own, anyway,” Dwalin chuckled, nosing around again and getting settled. “Worth it, though. His mouth, Durin’s beard. You’re in for a treat.” The cool wetness was replaced by wet heat as Thorin started to lick, prodding and smoothing muscle with his tongue and generally just being amazing.

“Oh by all that’s green,” Bilbo gasped, and then gasped and moaned again when Dwalin decided to finally take him in his mouth. There was heat ahead and heat behind and gorgeous friction in the form of tongues and teeth and rough hands across his skin, and honestly could anyone blame him for not lasting as long as he usually did? It had been quite a while since he was with two at once, after all, and never with two partners so much bigger than he was. So exotic, with their roughness that they seemed to think was gentle, and gods all that hair…  
Bilbo came with a long, heart-felt groan that rolled out of him in a tone lower than Thorin had ever heard from him. It was devastatingly attractive, so close to what dwarves might sound like but so clearly not. Below him, Dwalin moaned, fisting himself and stroking Bilbo through it as Bilbo came in his mouth. Thorin realized it was...a bit, more than he’d thought when they enjoyed themselves together earlier, and was a little upset with himself for wasting it. Dwalin had finished himself off with an echoing groan as he tried to lick the last scraps of seed off of Bilbo, reduced to little kitten licks interspersed with wide laps and what could only be described as gruff whines to try and get every last bit.

“My turn now, move,” Thorin grunted, definitely interested in the sight of both his lovers reaching their peaks with each other. It had been so arousing, seeing such a small soft thing as Bilbo with his big rough Dwalin, and he looked forward gleefully to exploring that later. Much later. Right now… “If that’s amenable,” Thorin finished, looking at Bilbo to gauge.

Bilbo looked...actually pretty fucked out, truth be told. Thorin reached forward to gently rub at his neck while Bilbo finally sat back carefully on Dwalin’s chest. Dwalin was catching his breath too, cheek rubbing against the inside of Bilbo’s thighs, and Thorin heaved a sigh before he pulled Bilbo the rest of the way off Dwalin to sit in his lap. 

“I’m not sure I can handle anyone sucking me off again just now,” Bilbo said after a while of cuddling back and relaxing with his dwarrow. Thorin nodded, hooking his chin over his shoulder to press his cheek to Bilbo’s. 

“Next turn is mine,” he grumbled. “Dwalin, don’t you hog him.” Dwalin laughed, wiping his hand on the grass so he could sit up and lean carefully forward against Bilbo, his head against Bilbo’s other shoulder. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he huffed, and Bilbo grinned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is for rutobuka's prompt, and it's not...quite hit everything you asked for. And also there's background. Because I don't think I can do it without background. But hopefully not too much? And hopefully sort of at least a little what you wanted, dear. <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd again because I'm a lazy sod. I'm not super pleased with how it came out but I figure I better post it and keep going or I'll get hung up on it!
> 
> I kinda want a dildo like the one Thorin had made for Bilbo now btw in case anyone wants birthday gift ideas... ;)

It had been a long day, with little room for breaks to stretch through the series of meetings or do anything besides drink massive amount of tea in an effort to stay awake. Bilbo had learned through trial and error that even if the tea didn’t keep him awake, having to pee afterwards definitely did. He and Thorin had shared multiple despairing looks over the course of the day, and then rearranged their faces to be stoic as they tried to pay attention to the annual inventory reports.

But honestly, how could a dwarf and hobbit, so recently accustomed to adventuring and doing hard physical labor on a daily basis, be expected to do nothing but sit and listen for hours on end without getting a bit overwhelmed.

So it was with great relief and a distinctly strange mix of antsiness and exhaustion that the royal couple finally got back to their apartments, stripped themselves of anything remotely business-like, and collapsed together on the bed with pleasure.

“That was awful,” Bilbo sad after several moments of squirming around happily on the soft bed before sighing. Thorin hummed in agreement before flopping over on top of Bilbo, who squawked and smacked at Thorin’s thigh as the dwarf laughed.

“Let’s do something nicer, then,” Thorin rumbled, pushing himself up a little so that Bilbo wouldn’t suffocate, and rolling his hips down suggestively. Bilbo grinned and cheerfully ground back up against him, making them both moan before he shoved Thorin off of him and started stripping.

“What would you have?” Thorin asked, unlacing his tunic before pulling over his head. Bilbo was busy unbuttoning the placket of his trousers and then kicking them off as he answered.

“Hmm,” Bilbo replied, eyeing Thorin’s crotch as he pushed off his smalls. “Let me think.” And he moved forward to shove his face into Thorin’s crotch, nuzzling his hardening cock lovingly and he snuffed and inhaled, taking in the beautiful scent of his dwarf. It was enough to have him rubbing against the sheets, mouthing at Thorin while the dwarf tried his best to manhandle his pants the rest of the way off and move on to his smalls too, if Bilbo would get out of his way. Not that he was complaining much, with how he was mouthing at his dick, warmth and friction in the movements.

“Come, love, let me take these off,” Thorin coaxed, pushing lightly at Bilbo’s head. Bilbo grumbled, shoving his face back into contact and sliding his hands up Thorin’s thighs, but finally left off long enough for Thorin to finish disrobing. 

“Hurry up, your majesty,” Bilbo huffed, and immediately leaned down to suck Thorin’s half-hard prick into his mouth before Thorin could protest. It was already a large mouthful--Thorin was well-endowed, even for a dwarf, and Bilbo was not really on the same scale as he was. He loved having it in his mouth as long as he could, though, and did so with vigor. 

“This is hardly--ah!--hardly fair, Bilbo,” Thorin said, panting as Bilbo rubbed his tongue against the bottom of his cock and pulled his head back before pushing back down again. “Bilbo. Bilbo.” Bilbo glanced up at him in amusement but didn’t stop, intent. Thorin growled, finally giving up on persuading him to move, and reaching down, just grabbed his hobbit by the hips and lifted him up and around and onto his chest, ass end towards Thorin and presenting just the most lovely of views. Bilbo’s cock and stones had been trapped against Thorin’s chest and to the side and behind, so that he could see it hard against his stomach and his balls round and soft against his chest. Thorin groaned, leaning up to try and get his mouth on Bilbo’s hole, and wasn’t able to quite crunch down enough without dislodging Bilbo completely.

“Just--just a moment, bunnel,” Thorin grunted, scootching over with Bilbo still doing his best to be as distracting as possible, though Thorin could feel it when Bilbo laughed, giggling at the ridiculousness of their current position. He stretched out a hand, reaching for a side table drawer. “Let me just--ah!” 

He and Bilbo were in the habit of keeping their oil in the side drawer, just in case it was needed quickly--like now--as well as some of their favored toys. Now he was intent on getting at least part of him into his love, and if not his cock, it would at least be some of his hand.

Bilbo continued to lick and nibble and suck at him, unable to keep Thorin’s fully erect cock in his mouth much anymore, and instead used saliva and his mouth and hands to work Thorin beautifully. Thorin loved seeing Bilbo desperate like this, like his pleasure was his own, and all that mattered in the world was keeping his mouth on him. And he just couldn’t. And perhaps that should have bothered Thorin a little more than it did, but his desperation and arousal lit a fire in his chest that he wouldn’t bother denying when they both enjoyed it so much.

The only part he regretted really was not being able to reach Bilbo as well, when they were like this, but oh, the sight of Bilbo’s ass clenching and flexing as he dragged his cock up and against Thorin’s chest and softer stomach, the sight of his balls being pulled along and rubbed against him--! It was perfect. Or it would be in a moment. 

Thorin fought against hitching his hips up, as always, not wanting to hurt himself or Bilbo, and poured out some oil on his fingers. Carefully he rubbed around Bilbo’s rim first, conveying his intent, and groaned as Bilbo changed course to push his hips back against Thorin’s hand with a grunt. He chuckled and gently put his finger in, past the first muscle, and let Bilbo push back onto his hand to get past the second ring. Bilbo moaned long and low against his cock, rubbing his face against it and spreading saliva everywhere.

“Thorin, please,” Bilbo begged. “More! Just, more, please. Oh gods, your hands.” He ground against Thorin’s chest again, catching at the stomach where fat rounded it and gasping. “Oh, please!” He attacked Thorin’s cock with renewed energy, urgent. Thorin felt the air go out of his chest as though someone caught him in the ribs and let his head fall back while he moved his hand faster, wanting to fill Bilbo and be filled, wishing he could suck Bilbo as he was being sucked.

“Bilbo,” Thorin rumbled, “how you undo me!” A muffled noise of agreement floated up from below as Thorin gave a particularly fortunate twist of his fingers, and then Thorin had an excellent idea. “My love, would you like your toy?” Further, more vigorous agreement vibrated against the head of his cock and Thorin gasped and reached for the side table again.

Thorin’s favorite toy to use on Bilbo (and Bilbo’s favorite to have in him) was a commissioned piece. Thorin had it cast in his cock’s likeness, and downsized to be the size that fit Bilbo most pleasurably. It was a kind of bronze, lighter than average to fit his skin tone, with rose gold mixed towards the tip to create a rosy gradient much like the swollen head. The whole thing had then been encased in glass, for cleanliness and safety’s sake, with a flared base towards the end to keep it from going too far into Bilbo. Thorin snagged it with his fingertips and pulled it close, coating it well while Bilbo squirmed against him, legs pressed open wide as he could manage around Thorin’s barrel chest. 

Thorin finally positioned the piece against Bilbo’s ass and then fairly yelped as Bilbo shoved his hips back towards it prematurely. Thorin chided him with a sharp smack on a supple cheek and then held him fast by the hip and gently rocked the toy in. Bilbo rested a cheek against Thorin’s thigh, his hands still moving restlessly as he panted, rocked his hips, and tried to keep lipping at Thorin as he caught his breath.

“Sshh, you’re doing good,” Thorin soothed, eyes affixed to the toy entering Bilbo, and Bilbo pushed down against Thorin when he realized what Thorin was staring at.

“Move, damn it, Thorin,” Bilbo panted, whining.

“It’s just so--Bilbo, you should see yourself,” Thorin groaned in answer, pumping the toy gently in and out now. “Mahal, you are gorgeous!” He moved the glass and metal toy in and out a little faster, a little more forcefully.

After that, Bilbo found his second wind with Thorin finally managing to hit that one spot that inside him that always drove him up the wall. There was Thorin’s enormous cock in his face, hot and hard and so big he honestly couldn’t get more than the head and an inch past that into his mouth. But it tasted divine, like the best meal he’s ever had, and his chest and stomach were both soft and hard with muscle and easier living. Bilbo glanced back when he had to stop to breathe and rest his jaw a moment (and only a moment--there were more important things than comfort, just now) and realized Thorin didn’t even notice that he had stopped, so entranced was he with the sight of Bilbo’s ass and the way it moved and shifted as the toy was moved in and out and Bilbo moved back and forth. His enchantment was like a hard liquor in Bilbo’s stomach: burning hot and intoxicating. Bilbo bent back to Thorin’s cock, feeling it twitch and harden periodically as he neared his end.

Thorin was transfixed with the way Bilbo’s flesh moved against his, smooth cream against his skin, his hot erection dragging against his stomach. There was just Bilbo all around him. Bilbo’s weight on top of him, and his fingers inside of him, satisfying and thick enough when h e used three or four of them. There was Bilbo’s heat around his cock, “Thorin’s” cock-shaped toy in Bilbo’s ass, and THorin had the sudden wild thought that he was being sucked by and fucking Bilbo, and being fucked by Bilbo while Bilbo also rubbed against Thorin’s chest.

Thorin was flung over the edge of his orgasm without warning, nearly howling as he spent in pulses against Bilbo’s face and into his mouth. Bilbo reveled in it, sucked the head of Thorin’s cock like he was starving and this was his only chance for a meal, and then smeared it against his cheeks and mouth and chin as it finished. Bilbo pushed up against Thorin’s thighs, looking down to watch his own cock push against Thorin’s belly and up a little further to smear in the mess remaining at the base of Thorin’s cock, and back again. 

Thorin sat back still, sucking in air as he came down from his orgasm, unable to stop watching as Bilbo reached back to take command of the toy now that Thorin’s hand was gone lax and rode it. Bilbo pressed down and forward to fuck into Thorin’s stomach, then up and back to fuck himself back onto the toy again, and a few strokes in his dick caught on Thorin’s belly button. The extra stimulation tipped him over, and he finally came, clenching down hard on the toy even as he ground down hard and came across Thorin’s abdomen, his seed bubbling up from where his cock was squished between them. He slowed, teasing the last bits of his spending out, and finally stopped, reaching down to smear a hand through their combined seed with a look of deep satisfaction.

They rested there a while, catching their breath, before Bilbo finally rolled off of Thorin to slide onto his back on the bed beside his king.

“That,” he said, “was well worth listening to inventory reports.” And just because he could, he gently pulled the toy out of himself and then dropped it over the side of the bed onto Thorin’s piled clothing. “What? It would have made the sheets dirty,” he said cheekily when Thorin gave him an unimpressed look.

“Because they’re in such pristine condition,” Thorin says dryly, and wiped his stomach and groin down with Bilbo’s nightshirt in retribution before rolling off the bed to go draw a bath.


	3. FrankyOh's prompt - Tattoos/BDSM OT3 Excellence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FranklyOh: not terribly great at "prompting" but maybe Modern Thorin and Dwalin going to get tattoos/piercings from the brilliant artist Bilbo at his shop and getting "stiff" on the pain. Luckily Bilbo is very helpful and offers the total package ;)  
> (Likely terrible prompt over, I just really like this OT3 and tattoo fics!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darling, you are wonderful at prompting if this is the quality of what you usually suggest--I have been so excited to write this! Not the least because I’ve been jonesing for a new tattoo or piercing myself lately, and also am a masochist, and also love this OT3. ;)

Dwalin had done it. He’d finally managed to secure Sting, aka Bilbo Baggins, the premier tattoo artist in town, for an afternoon appointment on a day that Thorin had off. He’d submitted the design ideas and gotten a proof back, and Thorin had been so pleased he’d given his immediate approval. The stylized map of their home country, complete with fantasy elements and tiny raven marking the path he and Dwalin had hiked together the summer after they’d graduated college, would be beautiful spanning Thorin’s broad back. 

Thorin had agreed to be tattooed after years of Dwalin’s haranguing him over it on the stipulation that he be 100% happy with the design, it be coverable by business attire, and that it be with a tattooer of his choice (as well as on Dwalin’s dime). Dwalin, who was covered in them himself, and who thought that there might actually be nothing hotter than his already unbelievable partner with ink across all that muscle, had agreed instantly but glowered when Thorin served up his choices.

“Baggins,” Thorin had declared, stabbing a finger at a poster on Dwalin’s apartment wall. It was from the latest issue of Ink. “And Erebor.” 

“It’ll be ages before I can get an appointment with Baggins,” Dwalin groaned, scrubbing his hands along his face. “Thorin. If you don’t want a tattoo, just say so, don’t give me this impossible quest shit.” Thorin glowered.

“I do want one,” Thorin snapped back. “I just don’t want subpar art on my ass. Or wherever.” Dwalin scowled but agreed, grumbling about spoiled rotten CEOs, and a year and a half later he’d finally succeeded.

 

It was a freshly showered duo that stepped into Baggins’ private studio, a quiet place that was comfortable and clean without being sterile. Soft chairs were sat towards the front of the studio, with magazines like any parlor, but there were also plants in every crevice, and towards the back next to large windows that provided natural light was sat the tattooing equipment and chair. Framed along the walls were examples of Baggins’ artwork, both tattooed and on paper, mostly in casual settings on people who looked proud of their ink. Dwalin thought the confidence they exuded made them more attractive...and the excellent linework and color on their bodies didn’t hurt, either. Thorin had made sure to dress in comfortable clothing--a loose t-shirt he used for sleeping sometimes and a pair of sweatpants, in case they decided to dip the outline lower than he anticipated.

“Good afternoon!” a dapper gentlemen said, stepping out of a back room and taking off gloves to casually toss them into a waste bin before moving forward to shake their hands. “You must be Mr. Fundinul and Mr. Durinul. Old names, those--northern, yes? Bilbo Baggins.” Dwalin and then Thorin took his hand in a firm grip, put at ease by his friendly demeanor. Thorin thought the tailored waistcoat and braces looked excellent on his plush figure.

“Ereborian,” Thorin confirmed dryly, “as was the map you used for reference.” Baggins’ smile turned slightly sheepish before he cleared his throat a little and turned to hide the faint flush Thorin spotted.

“Lovely old thing, by the way, I’ve been wanting to try my hand at some a bit more cartographical for a bit now--excellent timing, really, it’s why I got you in so quick! And honestly, it’s quite adventurous for your first piece, Mr. Durinul, it should come out excellently.”

“You can call me Thorin,” Thorin said, “And this is Dwalin, please.” Bilbo cleared his throat again and hummed as he wiped down the chair and readied his equipment. Thorin watched curiously.

“At any rate, it covers quite a bit of ground, and might require a second sitting if it gets to be too much at once,” Bilbo continued. Dwalin huffed a laugh and Thorin chuckled, hearing it.

“I don’t mind pain, Mr. Baggins,” Thorin replied, voice rougher with remembrance, and Bilbo stopped for a moment before moving again. Dwalin and Thorin smiled wolfishly at each other--this might be even more fun than anticipated.

“Right, if you’ll step over here and get settled then,” Bilbo offered, gesturing with a sweeping bow and a smile, “we can get started.” He turned back to set some of his equipment out and Thorin stepped forward to sit--and jumped when Dwalin pinched his ass sharply.

Thorin turned to glare at Dwalin, scandalized, and Dwalin grinned back unrepentantly. Thorin felt his ears start to burn and hurried to seat himself before Dwalin could reach him again. Dwalin grinned and pulled a soft chair up to sit next to him, surreptitiously pinching his thigh before shooting Thorin an innocent look as Bilbo turned back to them, giving them a suspicious look when Dwalin looked like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

At Bilbo’s direction Thorin stripped off his shirt and turned, then leaned forward against the backrest so that his back was relaxed and he wouldn’t get tired. Bilbo eyed the stretch of skin appreciatively before wiping it down with rubbing alcohol and fetching out the transfer paper. Thorin confirmed the placement on his back in a full length mirror that faced his seat, twisting to see the blue transfer ink marking his skin, and anticipation grew in his gut.

A few long moments later, the buzz of the tattoo gun started, and Thorin flinched as a gloved hand landed on him mid back.

“Try and relax into it,” Bilbo soothed. “We’ll start with the lonely mountain in the middle.” Thorin bit his lip and grunted; Dwalin smirked. The first sting of the needle was sharp, but it mellowed to warmth after a few minutes, and Thorin felt himself going boneless on the chair.

“There you are,” Dwalin murmured, stroking his hair gently. “Told you you’d be fine.” Thorin hummed sleepily in reply, lost to the sensation, and tried to be still instead of nuzzling into Dwalin’s hand as he wanted.

It seemed to go on and on to Thorin, who was enjoying himself immensely and found that he liked Baggins’ quiet speech as he said what he was currently working on, or praised Thorin’s stillness when he went over an obviously tender spot, or talked about how well the ink was taking. Dwalin stroked his hair still, scratching his scalp now and again, and before he knew what was happening, Thorin found he was hard in his sweatpants.

He threw a wide, panicked look up at Dwalin whose gentle smile turned into a wide grin when he realized what was wrong. Dwalin peeked up towards Bilbo, who seemed well occupied with a tricky bit of linework around the mountain range depicted, and then leaned down to Thorin’s ear.

“Don’t worry, you’re doing so well,” Dwalin said, shifting his hand down to grip the back of Thorin’s neck firmly. Thorin felt the panic fade into helplessness; Dwalin often gripped him like this during their more intense sessions, and Thorin was conditioned by now to yield when he felt it. 

“Oh,” came from his other side, and Dwalin and Thorin both jumped and looked at Bilbo, who was looking at them both with surprise.

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence. Then:

“Have you two been at the munches down at Bombur’s, then?” Bilbo asked breathlessly, and there was a sharp hunger buried in his voice that Thorin was very well acquainted with. “Only I haven’t seen you there--I would definitely have remembered.” Thorin and Dwalin stared at him, processing, before Thorin turned a pleading look to Dwalin, letting his head loll back against Dwalin’s hand.

“Please,” he asked just once, trying not to beg or rock forward into the seat back. Dwalin smiled broadly, wickedly, and nodded to Bilbo, who was getting a gleam in his eye that matched.

“I shan’t be giving you any sort of discount for this,” Bilbo warned, setting the tattoo gun aside carefully before leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. If he wasn’t so much smaller than Thorin and Dwalin it might have been intimidating; it was predatory all the same. Dwalin agreed, and ran down a few of their hard limits and safewords while Bilbo cleaned up Thorin’s back and bandaged it. 

“We aren’t done yet, Thorin, but I’d rather not have your back ruined because we got rowdy or it got infected,” Bilbo reassured when Thorin whined.

“Don’t fret, love,” he went on, “we have plenty of ways to take care of you.” Thorin finally did grind against the seat at the promise, and he and Dwalin conferred in quiet tones as they admired the movement of his back and hips as he did.

“So lovely,” Bilbo complimented to Dwalin, and Thorin groaned and moved again. “Honestly, how do you let him out of bed? I’d have to keep him strapped down at home, or perhaps in the back room here so I could take him as I wished.” Dwalin rumbled an agreement.

“There’s days we do that, too,” he said affectionately. “He’s rather fond of spreader bars and anything he can get in his mouth. Whore.” Bilbo grinned.

“Just lovely,” Bilbo muttered once more, to himself, and then clapped his hands and rubbed them together briskly. “Right then. Two ticks, I actually had some things in the back left from a scene a couple of days ago that I accidentally left in my bag.” 

“Look at you,” Dwalin rumbled to Thorin while Bilbo was gone. “Such a pain slut. Can’t even get a fucking tattoo without popping a hard on, huh?” 

 

“I can’t,” Thorin groaned, knuckles white against the side of the chair. “Please, Dwalin.” Dwalin laughed, taking his chin in hand and reaching up to cup his cheek. 

“Such a whore. Jesus. You’re lucky Baggins is in the lifestyle, aren’t you? What would’ve happened if he wasn’t? You would’ve been sittin there the whole time, just getting harder and harder while he worked on your back, unaware, until you couldn’t stand it anymore? Or do you think he would have figured it out, and kicked you out? Sick fucker.” Thorin flushed a deep red, ashamed and turned on, and then gasped when Dwalin slapped him, keeping his face steady with the other hand on his cheek.

“Better answer him, Thorin,” Bilbo’s said lowly as he walked back in, a bag in one hand, “or I really will kick you out on the street, just like that--huge tent in those sweatpants and no shirt. I’m known to every professional, you know...everyone will wonder what you did.” He set the bag down carelessly, rummaging through it. “But I know you want to be good for me, don’t you? Or I won’t give you what you want, and Dwalin won’t either.”

“And that’s a promise,” Dwalin agreed, and then slapped him again. Thorin felt his dick twitch in his pants as he gasped at the shock and stinging pain. “Well? What would’ve happened, hm?”  
“I don’t--,” he started to say, and Dwalin slapped him again wit a growl. 

“Don’t give me that shite, Thorin, you know I don’t take that as an answer,” Dwalin snarled. Thorin dropped his head to the seat and Dwalin grabbed his chin and wrenched it back up. “Look at me, Thorin. What would you have done if Bilbo hadn’t been interested?”

“I would have--waited, until he was done,” Thorin finally managed. Dwalin patted Thorin’s cheek approvingly, encouraging him to continue. “And maybe excused myself to the restroom at some point.”

“Would you have asked me to come with you?” Dwalin asked. Thorin shook his head.

“That would have been too obvious,” he said. “I would have just…”

“Taken care of the problem yourself?” Bilbo said lightly. “Just tossed off in my bathroom? Do you have any idea how thin the doors are?” He leaned in close enough for Thorin to feel his breath against his neck. “I would have heard you, Thorin. But that’s alright. I’ll forgive you, because you’re gorgeous, and I would have enjoyed listening.”

“But,” he said with relish, “since that’s out, here’s what I suggest, Dwalin. I’m going to finish Thorin’s tattoo. You’re going to do as you wish to the rest of him, provided he stays still. And when he’s done, if I can finish, we’ll let him suck us off. And if he can’t stay still, I shan’t touch him again today, and will just send you home without even a handshake instead.”

“Deal,” Dwalin said. “Thorin, you know your safeword and so does Bilbo. Use it if you need to. I won’t punish you if you do, but you know what’ll happen if you need to and don’t.” Thorin nodded with a “yes sir” and they started rearranging him a little.

Off came the sweatpants, leaving him in just his boxers. Thorin shivered at the feel of cooling vinyl against his legs as he settled back onto the seat, spreading his legs a little more to ease the feeling of cloth against his cock. Dwalin settled in front of him, reaching down to drag his nails down Thorin’s thighs, and then reached down to adjust himself as well. Thorin zeroed in on the movement, eyeing his partner’s groin hungrily, and then looked up at Dwalin pleadingly. 

“Oh no,” Dwalin chided. “You know the deal. Beg if you like, but you won’t get anything until you’re all finished up. If you behave.” He reached down to pinch Thorin’s inner thigh long and hard, listening to Thorin gasp and suck in air to steady himself when he let go and then pinched just to the side of it. Bilbo stripped the bandages back off with a tsk.

“Alright Dwalin, my turn,” Bilbo said as the sound of the tattoo gun started up again. Dwalin let go, rubbing the area lightly before sitting back, and Bilbo got back to business.

On and on it went, with the sting and burn of the tattoo needles against his back and Dwalin tormenting his front. Bilbo would set a timer for ten minutes and work on him, and then it’d be Dwalin’s turn for five minutes to pinch, slap, or bite him. Thorin struggled to stay still, begging alternatively for more stimulation and less, and after a silent conference between Dwalin, Bilbo started to join Dwalin in his turns as well so that he was truly surrounded. His dick felt like it was so hard he was going to tear his boxers, and there was a substantial wet patch where the tip met the fabric. Dwalin had taken himself out of his pants a while ago to stroke himself while Bilbo took his turns, taunting Thorin with how close it was. 

“Please, please, tell me you’re close to done,” Thorin demanded after what felt like eons. Bilbo chuckled darkly but patted his side consolingly.

“Almost, brave man,” he said affectionately. “Keep sitting still, I have a few lines to finish up and then you can have your reward.” Thorin whimpered once before doing his best to settle again as Dwalin rubbed his cock all over his face teasingly. 

“There we are,” Bilbo said with satisfaction as the last piece of tape sealed the bandage down again. “Ah, Dwalin, he did so well! What a sweet thing he is. Shall we give him his reward?” Thorin tracked the movement of Bilbo’s hands as he finally stripped the gloves off and immediately reached down to caress himself through his pants. “Just watching him. Jesus. We’ll have to do this properly some time, if you like.”

“We’ll give him his reward alright,” Dwalin said, pushing his dick further against Thorin’s face because...well, because he could, and Thorin looked ridiculous with Dwalin’s cock trying to shove up his nose, but he stayed still and took it because Dwalin fucking told him to. Oh he loved seeing the usually proud man like this. “What would your clients say if they could see you now, hmm.” 

“Don’t care, Dwalin, please,” Thorin begged, and Dwalin graciously brought his cock down to mout level and nudged it against his lips. Thorin whimpered as he took it in his mouth and pushed his tongue against the swell of his head, tasting the precome hiding in the slit that just waited to be sucked out. Dwalin fiddled a bit with the head of the chair, seeing something Thorin couldn’t, and then the head had been removed so that Thorin’s chin could just rest against it. 

“Ah, there we go,” Dwalin groaned, grasping Thorin’s hair and pushing tauntingly in just to pull back out before he went as far as Thorin wanted. Bilbo lushly as he watched, slouching back in another soft chair he’d pulled up, smartly-pressed pants shucked partially down and braces off his shoulders, waistcoat unbuttoned and collared shirt pulled up. Thorin drooled, and probably would have even if his mouth weren’t full of Dwalin’s decadent cock; Bilbo looked delicious, absolutely in charge, but allowing Dwalin to take the lead, as any good leader should in a situation he was unfamiliar with.

Dwalin yanked his head off with a sudden pop. “You like how he looks, don’t you,” he hissed. “Look at him. Dressed to the nines, perfectly respectable, and still hard for you, you goddamn slut?” Dwalin shoved his cock back into Thorin’s mouth with only a moment’s warning and Thorin sucked hard like he knew Dwalin liked. “Too fucking bad! You’re my cock slut. Little better than a goddamn fleshlight, a fucking toy for me to use when I’m bored or to share if I like. And you’re right, he is gorgeous, so I’m going to share you. You’re going to suck his dick like you’ve never sucked dick before, and I swear to god if you don’t make him come, I”ll, I’ll--” Thorin choked slightly and mastered himself enough to swallow as Dwalin finally came in his mouth, bitter salt in the back of his throat. 

“My turn now,” Bilbo said casually, and stood up to saunter over and toss a condom at Thorin. “I’ll have your mouth, Thorin. Put this on me.” Thorin raised shaking hands to comply, realizing he had kept his hands clenched against the seat the entire time. Dwalin reached over to work on his fingers gently as Bilbo waited, bare cock moving gently as he watched, the pink head pushed out of the foreskin.

“Alright?” Bilbo asked gently, and Dwalin nodded after looking hard at Thorin. “Alright. Thorin. Open.” Thorin slid his jaw open once more and he wrinkled his nose as the taste of rubber hit his palate.

“Mm, you don’t like that at all do you,” Bilbo muses. “You’d prefer it be bare skin. Fuck safety, fuck cleanliness, all you care about is the taste of cock in your mouth, don’t you?” Thorin groaned, and Bilbo laughed. “Maybe eventually, big man.” He said the last with a tone of dry derision that was so much more derogatory in a subtler way than Dwalin ever managed. It wasn’t just being degraded, like Dwalin did--it was being degraded by someone who was his social equal. Someone dressed nicely in a waistcoat and braces and jesus, were those brogues?--

Thorin came with a whimper and a mouth full of Bilbo’s cock without even touching himself once. He whined through it, grinding against the seat desperately, smearing semen all over even as Dwalin exclaimed and Bilbo’s breath punched out of him.

“You--you filthy fucking asshole,” Bilbo said with a gasp, pulling his cock out of Thorin’s mouth and slapping him. “Lick it up. Don’t just leave your mess everywhere!” Thorin shoved himself back and obeyed, licking the seat clean as aftershocks rocked him and then slumping down to the seat gasping once he’d finished. Bilbo couldn’t even watch him finish the job, coming so hard that he bent over at the waist and shuddered through his finish.

“Jesus,” Bilbo panted, after they’d all gathered their wits back about them. “Fuck me. We need to do this again.” Dwalin fetched some water for Thorin when Bilbo explained where it was and Bilbo pulled the condom off his cock with a wince at how sensitive he was. 

“That’s gonna need sanitising,” Dwalin laughed as he eased Thorin up gently and stripped his boxers off. Bilbo rolled his eyes with a huff and then grinned. “We’d best get this one home, I know you’re busy.” 

“I will need to call and cancel an appointment or two today, I think,” Bilbo admitted. But, worth it,” he declared. “Right. Dwalin, Thorin will need to have his tattoo cared for appropriately, which I trust you know how to do--your tattoos are in excellent shape. And, uh…” he peered out of the corner of his eye as he pretended to busy himself with paperwork.

“You’ll need to come back for a touch-up, I expect,” he said in a rush, “both of you if you can, I think. If you like.” Dwalin and Thorin both grinned, Thorin with an arm slung over Dwalin’s shoulder as he shrugged into his shirt.

“I’ll be back for more,” Thorin laughed, slurring. 

“Munch’s at Bombur’s?” Dwalin asked with a grin. “I’ll have to check the message board for the next one.”

And the three idiots stared at each other with goofy, sated grins on their faces for a few minutes more before going their separate ways...for the time being.


	4. The Scent of You Lingers -- Irrealia's prompt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irrealia: "scent kink"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Irrealia was kind enough to give me a prompt and turn me loose! I've recently become something of a convert to scent kink, which means my vocabulary is somewhat...limited. As pertains to smells. Hopefully I still got the point across. <3

There were evenings that Thorin was so late to bed that Bilbo just couldn’t wait up for him anymore. The dwarf king seemed to be able to subsist successfully on very little sleep, to Bilbo’s way of thinking. Thorin knew Bilbo was cranky if he didn’t get his full eight hours in bed, and didn’t begrudge him his need, but there were evenings he came home later than Bilbo could stay up but before Thorin was truly sleepy.

Evenings like this. Thorin had eaten his food quietly in the kitchenette, and taken a nice bath. He was still a bit ahead of schedule, and Bilbo looked so tempting laying in bed like that with his night shirt gapping at the chest and his curls so beautiful in the low candlelight...Thorin rather wished Bilbo was awake, so he could ravish him. Oh, the things he’d do…

Thorin reached down to idly palm himself through his sleep clothes as his cock started to fill, daydreaming about it, and then shrugged and decided he might as well knock one out before bed. He slept better when he did, and while he didn’t make time for it often--there was still so much to do--he enjoyed it. So it was with great satisfaction that he imagined bending Bilbo over his desk, or the counter of the kitchenette where the day’s bread and Bilbo’s fruits sat, or even better being bent over in front of the fire...he pulled his pleasure out of himself after a time, wiped his hand and dick off with a rag and a bit of water, and after he’d settled he went off to bed.

 

Bilbo woke to the feeling of cool air entering the sheets, a warm body sliding up beside his, and the scent of Thorin. Bilbo snuffled a bit and snuggled up closer to his dwarf, enjoying his warmth and the solid feel of his chest. Thorin settled with a happy murmur, one arm under his head and the other by his face as was his habit, and quickly dropped off to sleep while Bilbo lingered in the waking world.

There was the smell of soap from Thorin’s nightly bath, as usual. It was clean, and made from a fruit grown far to the south whose peel had an appetizing, slightly acidic sweet scent. There was the scent of sage from his hair oils. Underneath was the scent of clean skin, or the oil of Thorin’s skin, and...Bilbo sniffed a little harder, pressing his nose against THorin’s hand. 

Oh, that smells good, Bilbo thought, and had to push his face a little more against Thorin’s hand. It was a familiar scent, and one that woke him up some more, made him want to lick Thorin’s hand to taste it.  
Bilbo felt the blood start to pool in his groin, heat filling his cock, and inhaled again, nudging past Thorin’s hand to reach his chest. He smelled so purely Thorin right now, without the sweat of stressful days spent Kinging about or the forge or metal. Bilbo’s breath stuttered out as he pressed his legs together and Thorin stirred.

“Bilbo?” Thorin asked sleepily, and Bilbo nuzzled against his chest again, inhaling deeply. “Are you awake?”

“Mmhm,” Bilbo replied, rubbing his face against Thorin’s chest. “You smell delicious.” Thorin’s chest rumbled as he laughed, a hand coming down to wrap around Bilbo’s waist and pull him up closer. Bilbo pushed his nose up under Thorin’s jaw now, and Thorin’s scent was good there, strong, but not quite what was on his hand for some reason. But, bother that, Thorin was awake, Bilbo was awake and aroused, this was good. He could work with that. Bilbo pushed Thorin over onto his back and licked at his jaw where the smell was strong, trying to somehow eat it. 

“This is lovely, Bilbo, but as you were asleep, and I did not wish to wake you, I, ah…” Thorin flushed a little. “I took my pleasure not long ago, ghivashel, I do not think I can rise again so soon.”

Bilbo stared up at him from where he’d been trying to shove his nose into the crease of his armpit, where Thorin’s scent was clean and strong, struck with realization.

“THAT’S why you smell so nice?” he asked incredulously. Thorin shrugged carefully, frowning down at him in confusion. “Well let’s find out,” Bilbo decided and Thorin watched, amused, as Bilbo wiggled his way down to burrow under the covers and into Thorin’s pants.

It was warm, and not as dry as outside the covers as under, and Thorin’s scent was strongest here. Bilbo gently pushed Thorin’s legs apart and sniffed deeply, the groaned, pushing his hips against the bed insistently.

“I’ll take it that’s so,” Thorin said, his laughter muffled through the blankets. Bilbo hummed absently, trying to see if he could somehow breathe in enough of the smell of sex-soaked Thorin to keep it in his lungs, and maybe exude it through his own skin so he could smell it whenever he liked. No such luck, of course, so he’d have to just stay down here forever.

And oh, look, his favorite thing was down here! Bilbo thought mischievously. He moved over to rub his face down against it lovingly as it perked up, and Thorin’s rumbling laugh came again above him.

“Always proving me wrong, aren’t you,” Thorin grunted, reaching around to blindly stroke Bilbo’s head. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, burglar, but steal what you will; I’m up for it.” He twitched his hips forward with a snicker at his own cleverness as his dick bumped against Bilbo’s cheek.   
“You just smell so good,” Bilbo grumbled, ignoring Thorin’s dick in favor of pressing his nose into the crease of his thigh. The hair was lighter there than the base of his cock or his armpit, but the scent was just as strong, and the tang of Thorin’s seed was even stronger. “Can’t help it. Just want to…” He found that he was humping on of Thorin’s strong thighs, and made an aggravated noise as he couldn’t figure out what exactly he wanted.

Thorin relaxed a moment, and the hand on Bilbo’s head stilled tenderly. “I was not aware that I smelled quite that good,” he teased after a moment, pushing Bilbo’s head a little to let the hobbit know he was joking. Bilbo finally pushed his head back out from under the blankets to go back to nuzzling towards Thorin’s armpit and then jaw.

“Ugh, usually you--you smell like a lot of other things that aren’t very nice, but just you? Oh yes,” Bilbo said. “Just you is a smell I like very much. It makes me want to do everything you like to you as long as I can keep smelling it. Or just get my nose everywhere you smell strongest.” Thorin looked stunned; apparently, he hadn’t quite realized the depth of things. He was beginning to get an idea, though, both from Bilbo’s words and the way he was still slowly humping his thigh.

“Let me lick you?” Bilbo suggested, thin edge of pleading to his voice. 

“Don’t let me stop you,” Thorin answered, ripping the sheets back off them both, and Bilbo beamed before giving one last sniff and lick to Thorin’s jaw just under his ear. He shuffled down, enthusiastically pulling Thorin’s sleep clothes away with Thorin’s help and mouthing at Thorin as he tried to get himself settled.

Thorin’s cock was still trying to harden, having been used less than an hour previous and dwarrow being slow to rouse and slow to soften. Bilbo didn’t mind; for however Thorin cleaned himself afterwards, he could still smell seed and sex and Thorin’s base scent, musky and salt and something like good stone. 

Bilbo gave him a few perfunctory sucks at the head of his cock, reaching down lazily to pull his smalls aside and fish out his own. Something about Thorin’s scent just excited him, and always had, but the ripe scent of questing dwarf was enough to put him off until they’d reached Erebor, and after, there’d been war and wounds and making things right. But now. Now he had his clean dwarf king, smelling as delicious as Bilbo had always known he would, and it was so good. 

Maybe if he just...Bilbo took Thorin’s cock in his mouth again, pushing down on it, trying to swallow around it. He didn’t think he was getting far enough down for it to make a difference in how things felt for Thorin, but Thorin didn’t seem to mind him making the effort, so he kept bobbing his head. He fisted his own cock as he did, loving the feeling and taste and smell of Thorin in his mouth.

It took quite some time for Thorin to get off, and Bilbo had to stop stroking himself several times to clench his thighs and do his best to stave off his own orgasm. Thorin groaned and grunted, huffed and gasped, and touched the back of his head lightly and shoved his hips up into Bilbo’s mouth by turns. 

“Enough, enough,” Thorin finally said, pushing Bilbo off and up and scrabbling for the side table drawer. “Let me have you, or you have me, it matters not, but for the love of Mahal--” 

“No!” Bilbo barked, and pounced on Thorin from behind. “I’m too close, Thorin, no, let me just--” and he was distracted by the curve of Thorin’s buttocks. Bilbo pried the cheeks apart by gripping as much of the cheek as he could and pressed his tongue against Thorin’s hole.

“Ah,” Thorin gasped, and the shuddered as Bilbo set to work, “alright, yes, oh Bilbo!” 

Bilbo shut his eyes and focused on the muscle his tongue was working against, lapping and teasing before pushing in just a bit. He took wide licks up against it for long turns and then thrust his tongue in, shallowly at first. As Thorin swore and shook and begged and tucked an arm under to pull at his dick Bilbo revelled in the noise, the texture, the smell, by all the gods the smell! Clean and musky and the most delicious thing he’d ever had his face in, and he was a hobbit--he’d had his face in many, many delicious things.

Bilbo pumped at his cock faster as Thorin’s cries reached a crescendo, and the muscle of his ass clenched against his tongue desperately as Thorin came against the bed sheets, Thorin’s shoulder still moving to stroke himself through his spending. Bilbo let his tongue rest and instead just stayed where he was, face squashed against Thorin’s ass cheeks as he breathed in deeply and cupped a hand under the head of his cock to catch his seed and came, and came, and came.

It was one of the more intense orgasms he’d ever had with Thorin, he reflected as they cleaned up again afterwards and snuggled back down. The sheets had cooled somewhat with being flung to the end of the bed, but the comfortable warm scent of their bodies remained, and the bed would soon warm again with Thorin tucked against him. 

Bilbo sighed, tucking his nose up against Thorin’s back as he cuddled him, and breathed him in.


	5. No Admittance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mcmanatea: For the smut prompt, could you maybe do an anything-but-penetration Bagginshield fic? Oral, manual, intercrural, etc? Basically neither is super into insertion of anything, so they have to be creative :3 Bonus points for rimming and/or fem? :D
> 
> I didn't get to alllll those things, actually, but managed to hit a majority of them I think. I enjoyed the mental exercise of thinking of sex without penetration; I'll probably do a second fill with male Bilbo and Thorin. :)

The stars rose bright in the dark sky above their campsite, but neither Thorin nor Bilbo noticed them. They were both a bit preoccupied discovering promising new territory under each other’s clothes, cuddled away from the fire on their bedrolls, clean from a nearby river (and before that, Beorn’s great home) and searching out each other’s buttons and switches. 

 

Bilbo was sure she’d never had a lover as considerate as Thorin. The dwarf king had so far always put Bilbo’s pleasure before her own, and even now was pinching carefully at Bilbo’s nipples and sliding a finger down to play with the little pebble at the top of her folds that brought her such pleasure. Bilbo breathed out, trying to keep her groans and gasps locked behind her teeth, carding her own fingers through the hair of Thorin’s chest and what further down demarcated her nether lips.

 

It was soft, and thick, almost like fur down there but not as fine as fur was. Bilbo thought it might make cunningulus a little less pleasant, but Thorin seemed to respond very well to gentle skritches and heavier petting with the flat of Bilbo’s hand, so it was all well. Thorin for her part seemed fascinated with the coarse hair on Bilbo’s pussy, pulling a bit, pinching her pebble pleasantly as an apology, and then going back to feeling how far down and to the sides it went.

 

Bilbo was getting close to the edge of her orgasm, and gasped “Ah, Thorin, please, just a little more--!” 

 

To her consternation, Thorin took that to mean she wanted a thick finger shoved up inside her, and Bilbo planted her feet to scoot back off the bedroll before she could think about it.

 

“Bilbo!” Thorin complained, making to drag her back, and then again when Bilbo planted one of those same feet between her breasts to keep her from crawling up after her.

 

“I didn’t mean more like that!” Bilbo snapped, irritated. Thorin frowned, flummoxed.  _ Stupid dwarf king, pretty even when she’s being dumb _ , Bilbo thought crossly.

 

“Well what did you mean?” Thorin asked, exasperation coloring her tone. Bilbo flapped an arm at her.

 

“Just--just more of what you were doing! Honestly, no manners whatsoever, just popping that in someone like that.” 

 

“I have been with many lovers, and none of them seemed to dislike it,” Thorin said cautiously, trying to parse out what was happening. Bilbo huffed, glowering at her.

 

“Well I’m not them, your majesty, and I don’t like it,” she shot back, taking Thorin aback with her vehemence.

 

“I am aware my hands are larger than what you may be used to,” Thorin said after a moment. “Perhaps if I started with something smaller it would be more comfortable?”

 

“You flatter yourself,” Bilbo said flatly. “It’s not the size of your fingers that’s important, Thorin, I’ve been with a few Hobbit lads whose fingers were almost your size, and one woman of Men whose fingers were larger. I just. Don’t. Like it.”

 

“You do not care for...fingers inside of you?” she asked. Bilbo nodded, starting to calm down now that Thorin was listening and trying to understand. Thorin tilted her head slightly, observing. “Do you like anything inside of you? Either way? Or is it just fingers?”

 

“I’m not a fan of things up either entrance, honestly,” Bilbo admitted. “I suppose if you like it I could do it for you, but I just don’t care for it at all.” Thorin shrugged.

 

“I don’t need it to finish, but it’s nice sometimes,” Thorin said. “But I won’t be forcing you into anything you dislike.” A glance around showed that nobody had taken notice of their little misunderstanding, and she looked back down at Bilbo with a little grin that managed to be both sly and sheepish at the same time. “Would you give me another chance?”

 

Bilbo felt her heart warm at the look on her face, and smiled affectionately at her dwarf before plopping back down on the bedroll, pulling her skirt up to her thighs as she did. 

 

“I have always believed in second chances,” she said cheerfully, and Thorin laughed in that deep, rich alto voice of hers before leaning down to kiss her dearly.  

 

This time began much as the first had, and Bilbo had no complaints--Thorin was a devilishly good kisser, with lips that shouldn’t taste so plush with how thin they looked, and her bristled chin was a strange sensation to Bilbo but welcome nonetheless. They kissed languorously, ramping themselves back up to where they’d been before the...rather rude interruption. Bilbo found herself feeling rather generous with her forgiveness to someone who was so tender and willing to take the lead when Bilbo signaled that was what she wished.

 

But kissing only got you so far, in their case, and after a time their hands wandered once more. Thorin brushed hands down the sides of Bilbo’s unbound breasts, a bounty compared to Thorin’s flatter chest, and Bilbo found herself kneading at Thorin’s buttocks, in love with the swell of her rump and the unexpected muscle at her hips.

 

She got a demonstration of that muscle and more when Thorin’s hands had meandered down to her hips, and after a scorching kiss Thorin lifted her and rolled to her back, dropping her gently onto Thorin’s face. Bilbo grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her waist as Thorin put her tongue out to lap at Bilbo’s folds, careful not to venture too far in, nipping and sucking at her until Bilbo groaned. 

 

“Thorin, oh green fields yes,” Bilbo stuttered as Thorin urged her to roll her hips against her mouth. “Ah! This is--much better, thank you.” Thorin couldn’t help but giggle at that, the girlish sound so unusual for the usually serious dwarf, and Bilbo couldn’t help but love her a little more for it. She reached down to tug at her dark hair and thoroughly enjoyed the moan that that resulted as Thorin tucked a hand down to rub herself.

 

Once more Bilbo felt herself approaching her peak, and ground down against Thorin’s face as much as she dared without hurting her. Thorin beat her to it, gasping and going rigid and then groaning and clutching Bilbo’s thigh to keep her cunt shoved in Thorin’s face. It disrupted Bilbo’s rhythm a little but Thorin’s face was so spectacularly attractive like that--almost pained, like she was fighting her way through her pleasure, and then completely relaxed as it crested and waned--that Bilbo had no problem getting off regardless. Thorin licked her through her orgasm and gentled the aftershocks, and when Bilbo finally scooted off of her she had to wipe quite a bit off of her face.

 

“Here, love, you’ll want a wash,” Bilbo whispered, hoping they hadn’t been too loud. She grabbed her canteen of water and dabbed some onto a spare square of linen Beorn had been kind enough to give to her. Thorin took it gratefully and wiped her face before letting the fabric fall behind her head with a quiet  _ pap  _ and scooping Bilbo back over and into a hug.

 

“Mmm,” Thorin sighed, pulling Bilbo up to cuddle close against her and reverently laying a kiss on top of her hair.

 

“Quite,” Bilbo agreed dreamily and yawned. “Good night, Thorin.” She pillowed her head against Thorin’s bicep and pulled the blankets up close.

  
“Good night, love,” Thorin murmured, and well exhausted they both went to sleep.


	6. a fever in the blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deviousdragon42: Smut prompt. Bilbo watches Thorin defeat Azog, is wounded (but not horribly) battle fever switches to bunny fever on a frozen lake… Dwalin has to escort princes away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd, written mostly at midnight when I was in Some Kinda Mood. Sorry if it's not as good as the others :(
> 
> I'm taking prompts again! Hit me up with ideas. :)

The scent of rotting flesh, corruption, and the acid of orcish blood trailed up the steps to Ravenhill, and Thorin felt dragged forward by his nose towards its source. The hair at the base of his neck and nail stood on end, irritating underneath the collar of his shirt and the seat of his pants, but he had no inclination to rearrange his clothes more comfortably--all thought was gone, replaced by the scent of the orc who had slaughtered his father and grandfather and so many others.

He pulled to an abrupt stop when he spotted the Pale Orc, and for long moments they stared each other down. Most orcs wore patterns of spots on their skin, and sometimes ruffs of fur that stood on end and a small crooked tail, but Azog had been born bald, white, and blank. Two scars cut long across his chest where he’d long ago cut off breasts, parts of him that didn’t belong, and Thorin had often thought they were the only thing remotely relatable about him. Azog was alien to the sensibilities of the rest of Middle Earth in ways that surpassed other orcs--just the same as his cruelty.

The sound of battle was a distant roar, a susurration of violence that was muted and gentled by distance. Their breath puffed out into the air in the chill. A troll screamed particularly loudly somewhere near Dale and cut off abruptly, and a rumbling echoed up to where they stood and disturbed a bit of loose shale.

The noise snapped them both into motion and with a roar they charged towards each other.

First contact was vicious, and Thorin slid out of the brunt of it--a hundred years hadn’t dulled his memory of his arm going numb beneath his shield with Azog’s strike. The fight dragged on, quick cuts from them both biting skin and shearing fur--Thorin was certain he’d lost the tip of his tail on one pass but there was nothing for it but to press harder in retaliation, and he could hardly feel the pain by now anyway. Blood began to spatter against the ice around them, but still they fought. Everything was becoming a blur of strike and counterstrike, instinct and the sharp pain in his nostrils of black blood and cold, and Thorin began to despair of breaking Azog’s defense strong enough to to land a killing blow when Azog managed to land a glancing blow to his calf that had him slamming to his back.

Azog launched towards him, and Thorin kicked out with his injured leg. If he hadn’t been injured and tired he might’ve broken the orc’s wrist, but as it was he disarmed him. Snarling, Azog tried to go for his throat and they grappled, fighting for leverage. It seemed to him to last an Age, hours at the least, but he knew in his rational mind that only minutes went by before Azog trapped him: Thorin was stuck pushing upward with all his might, keeping Azog’s metal hand well away from his throat, but in doing so he had to lock his arms out. Any closer--the scant inches he would need to get room to get away--and Azog’s teeth snapped into his throat. The orc laughed maniacally, growling and whining and impatient to destroy his opponent--

There was a thud and Azog lurched forward hard, concentration broken, as if someone had landed a blow to his back. Thorin couldn’t even stop to think about it. He lurched up and under Azog’s chin before the orc could do the same and set his own fangs to the orc’s neck.

Black blood streamed over his face, splashing into his eyes as he sunk his teeth as deep as he could go, and he kept his arm locked out to keep Azog’s metal hand twisted behind the orc’s back. Azog screamed hoarsely, stuttering, and Thorin felt his jaw lock with grim satisfaction.

It was long minutes before he managed to bleed the orc out. The second he was able he worked his jaw open, gagging on the taste of orc flesh and the meaty texture of it, and pushed the corpse of his enemy off of him before rolling to all fours and retching. He gathered fistfulls of snow and crammed them into his mouth, scraping his tongue clean until only a bare taste of copper remained.

Blood pounded in his ears, the cold bit at his face, and he pulled himself up to a sitting position, tipped his head back, closed his eyes and breathed in deep the air of a better world.

Battle still sang in his blood after his breath had begun to even out, staving off the exhaustion he knew he’d feel later. His fur still stood on end, his body not convinced that all was well even as he knew he was safer now than he’d been in a century, and in the quiet he heard a hesitant footstep.

“Bilbo?” he called, fairly certain--no orc could step with such softness. In a flash the hobbit appeared out of thin air, as though a piece of paper that had covered him had simply slid aside. Beyond surprise, Thorin studied him.

A bit of blood matted his hobbit’s blond-brown hair, near where his long ears stood from his skull, and hair turned to fur, and Thorin reached out to feel, trying to be gentle but clumsy anyway. There was a sizable lump, and he saw Bilbo wince when he touched it, but he was alive and Thorin’s blood still pounded in his ears and before he could help himself he was pulling the hobbit towards him and kissing him deeply.

“You stupid dwarf, aren’t you supposed to run in packs--” Bilbo managed to get out as Thorin moved from his mouth to his neck. The stress of battle had melted and been recast as something else, something primal deep in Thorin’s breast, and while it was strange it didn’t feel wrong. Didn’t feel dangerous. 

“Please,” Thorin growled as he licked Bilbo’s pulse, yanking his own gloves off and beginning to tear open Bilbo’s clothes. He couldn’t parse where this was coming from, and knew it was ridiculous--they were on the open ice, there was a dead orc laying ten feet from them--he knew it must be strange to this hobbit, with his long ears and burrows. 

But it was absolutely urgent, beyond imperative, that Thorin cement his victory over his challenger right this second and secure his line by siring pups.

Beyond ridiculous. He knew it. He’d known he’d never sire his own children since a few months after he first found himself admiring Dwalin’s back as they showered post-training as a young dwarf. Once he’d realized he had no interest in dams he’d known he might adopt, but that path was closed to him. 

Instinct wasn’t listening, and insisted if he just fucked Bilbo hard enough he might get lucky.

“Ah--Thorin--alright, sweet stars, a moment!” Bilbo gasped as he pushed Thorin’s hands away to take charge of his own clothing again, and Thorin gladly started stripping off his armor instead. There’d be hell to pay later when someone saw he’d cut the leather straps of his gear instead of taking the time to undo it, but this was far more important and Mahal why wasn’t he inside his mate yet?

There was a tussle, then, with Thorin swooping back down to feast on Bilbo’s mouth and neck and shoulders and chest and stomach and Bilbo gasping and writhing and then realizing-- “Fuck’s sake Thorin you’re still dressed!” Thorin wanted, oh he wanted, but he also couldn’t bring himself to stop licking and tasting and scenting Bilbo all over. 

Mine, mine, mine, this mate is mine! was the relieved exultation of his soul, and he tried to bring something of him into himself, to devour him.

There was scraping and then cold suddenly from the waist down and Thorin jumped, momentarily letting go; Bilbo had managed to get his feet up and shove against Thorin’s hold on him to get Thorin’s trousers down. There were welts down his thighs from where his belt had fought the good fight, but Thorin disregarded it as he scuffed his boots off frantically and then turned back to pull Bilbo close to him.

“Wait, Thorin, just a minute!” Bilbo rambled as he was dragged, still digging through his coat, “I’m sure I have--maybe still in my pocket, could be--Thorin, wait--ah ha!” 

Bilbo wiggled and struggled his way around and finally made it to all fours in front of Thorin, handing him a tiny bottle of blade oil, and Thorin happily lost his damn mind. There was blessed pressure against his cock as he ground against Bilbo’s generous ass and uncorked the bottle; Bilbo’s soft pert tail was mussed from being tucked in his trousers but trembling excitedly at the sensation. Thorin felt the base of his cock start to plump up, the precursor to a knot, and groaned at the thought of emptying himself into his mate as he emptied half the bottle into his hand and tried to make things easy as he could for Bilbo.

This was lovely, this was right and true and exactly what Thorin needed except--ah, all the gods, he needed closer, so he leaned forward, covering Bilbo and this was such an awkward angle to try and loosen him. He decided it was worth it as he felt Bilbo relax and arch and groan with pleasure, and finally Bilbo made an unhappy noise and pushed Thorin’s hand towards his dick. Thorin used most of the rest of the bottle to slick himself up and covered Bilbo with his body again, mounting him and pushing in, in, in, until his balls met Bilbo’s ass and he nearly choked with how good it was. Bilbo made a displeased growl and then stamped a foot, and Thorin obliged by shoving into him just a little further before fucking him in earnest.

The ice was cold and hard beneath their clothes and Thorin might end up with frost nip on his ass but he had defeated his ancient enemy, the great challenge; he’d succeeded and provided for his people and had proven himself to his mate and now, now--he bit down on Bilbo’s shoulder, muscles bunching as he pulled Bilbo back hard against his cock. His knot slipped in, so easy, and Thorin groaned. A moment later Bilbo clenched hard just after Thorin hit his peak, and the stimulation was so good to Thorin it was almost painful, made him push more of his seed further into Bilbo’s body (just in case, instinct happily insisted, there might be pups!) as Bilbo spent himself onto the ice.

There were long moments afterwards while their skin steamed into the open air, their breath panting out billowing clouds, and Thorin tried to work out the kink he was putting into his back before shuffling up a little to better warm Bilbo. 

“Forgot about this part,” Bilbo grumbled accusatorily after he’d caught his breath, peering up and back past his ears (which were tickling at Thorin’s nose) at Thorin. Thorin twitched his nose a little to clear the urge to sneeze and huddled down a little further onto Bilbo. “Hey, he didn’t get your throat did he? You’ve barely said a word--”

“Sorry,” Thorin grunted, and then whined as an aftershock pulsed through his dick. “Didn’t--I just needed to…” It had been many, many years since he’d been overwhelmed by himself like that, and he wasn’t sure how to explain. 

“Usually this is done indoors,” Bilbo grumbled, leaning out to grab Thorin’s furs where they’d kicked them off and then squirreling down into them best as he could with Thorin’s knot still tied to his ass. Thorin whined softly, apologetic, and did his best to arrange his tail where it’d cover Bilbo best. 

 

They pulled their clothes back on the second Thorin’s knot went down (no, stay close! pups! shouted instinct, and Thorin firmly told it to shut up) and struck a fire quickly after they ascertained that the major actions of the battle were concluded and that there were no orcs around to see their fire and use their isolation to their advantage. They curled around each other, dressed but chilled, until they had warmed up enough, and then they made their way back to the battleground so Thorin could direct the cleanup.

Six hours around noon turned into twelve hours that evening and then twenty-four by the next day, and Thorin was about to stumble off to a cot finally when Dwalin grunted at him.

“See you still got that birthmark on your arse,” he said, and Thorin went still.

“What,” he said. It was often said that kings must be the epitome of wisdom, and have a silver tongue. In all fairness, it was seldom that kings’ arses were mentioned offhand after major battles and when said kings were on the brink of passing out where they stood.

“That mole on your arse, right behind your fucking balls, your majesty,” Dwalin replied. “Literally, when the boys and I saw them last yesterday.”

Thorin wished he’d passed out where he stood instead of trying to be a responsible king for once. Dwalin began to smile, a vicious, gleeful thing. 

“Of course, we didn’t stay long--pretty sure Kili was starting to retch, and Fili had to get his arm reset, but it did their little hearts good to see their uncle so...healthy.” 

Thorin spitefully, silently retracted every nice thing he’d ever thought about Dwalin’s back and left to go find his tent.


	7. Shining Restraints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ahiddenkitty prompted me for fancy, sparkly, Dwarvish restraints, and uh then there was this new toy at the local toy store that intrigued me, and then this fought with me for seriously MONTHS, GUYS, MONTHS, and I finally said FUCK IT, IT'S DONE, and called it good. So. Not the most coherent piece of writing or the one I'm proudest of but I'm ready to just BE DONE with it. So here it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for this chapter: pain play, restraints, object insertion, chastity devices, seriously the kinkiest most BDSM-y thing I've written in Quite Some Time, guys, I'm Serious.

 

Bilbo had an inkling what he’d like to get Thorin for Yule.

 

They’d been working with leather lined with velvet, for the most part, with the wrist and ankle cuffs and the collar Thorin had tossed together in the day after Bilbo had first mentioned he’d be amenable to that sort of play. It’d worked admirably, honorably, and Bilbo had admittedly developed quite a fondness for the smell of leather.

 

If by fondness, of course, you meant an instantaneously half-full cock and a light head due to all his blood rushing south.

 

Alright, Bilbo would admit it. He liked leather rather a lot now. Especially the leather of his equipment, the floggers and whips and riding crop (ooh, that riding crop--Thorin jumped so delightfully before sticking his ass out desperately for more). But he’d always thought...well, Thorin was a king. A King. And so, wonderfully, achingly beautiful. Bilbo had always thought Thorin deserved a more beautiful set of restraints to match him.

 

So he’d wandered the market districts for a few weeks in late Wedmath, inspecting the crafters along the leatherworking and jewelry making and “intimate apparel.” Finally, finally, he’d found a jeweler who’d partnered with a leather worker to produce intricate, dazzling, fine pieces adornment that were something like what he had in mind for his King.

 

“I’d like to commission a special set of items from you,” Bilbo said to the shopkeep, who sat up ramrod straight once Bilbo pulled down his hood.

 

“Bilbo Dragonriddler! Of course! What exactly have you in mind, sir? I am Garr son of Berr, my brother Frarr and I work together to make the things you’ve seen here in this shop.”

 

“I’m searching for something a bit...intimate,” Bilbo began slowly. Most dwarrow didn’t give two figs what you did in the bedroom, honestly didn’t, but he still felt the echoes of a lifetime lived among the more conservative denizens of the Shire. 

 

“Discretion is assured as a matter of course with such commissions,” Garr said firmly. “What exactly are you looking for, then? Perhaps some luxury toys to spend time with, or to use with another?”

 

“Cuffs, actually,” Bilbo managed to get out. “Ah. Ankle cuffs. And full sleeve arm cuffs, as well.” The dwarf craftsman’s eyebrows shot up as he grinned.

 

“Ah haaaaaa,” he said. “I see! Well, in that case, we do have some lovely sketches of possible restraint sets you could browse, if you like, as well as suggested accessories for your loved ones!” Bilbo cleared his throat, aware he was blushing and that his ears were probably red as the rubies on display before them, and nodded as confidently as he could.

 

“Let me get the portfolio, then! I assume you’re the one in charge, seeing as you’re the one picking things out? Here we go--most of these we make to size, and of course it wouldn’t do to have these displayed in the shop were dwarflings might see them, but we actually do a fair brisk business in it, especially my brother.” Garr’s eyes turned calculating, in the way all merchants do when possibly looking at quite a large sale. “You’ll be wanting some fancy ornamentation as well? I’m sure none of the Company lacks for money, and you seem a male of discerning taste. I could do up something lovely that would meet and exceed your expectations!”

 

“Let me look,” Bilbo snapped finally, and then regretted his words. Garr on the other hand didn’t seem offended, and bustled off to find something or the other in the back of the shop. Finally left in peace, Bilbo turned his attention to the heavy sheaf of papers on the counter.

 

Immediately, the parts of his ears that hadn’t yet flushed, did. The sketches weren’t necessarily...obscene, really, but the dwarrow depicted in the restraints were naked and very good looking. Some of the restraints shown weren’t Bilbo’s cup of tea (he would probably be having at least one nightmare about the iron mask that locked onto one’s head, obscuring all but the nose and mouth) but after some time he found himself flipping back and forth between just two.

 

One was a solid, sturdy, but plain looking set, obviously the lower tier pricing-wise, but seemed dependable and comfortable. Not far from their current set up, actually, thought it looked to be in a finer leather with a comfortable padding on the insides of the cuffs and sleeves. The sketch also showed a few accessories that could be used, such as a bar of iron that you could secure the ankle cuffs to...Bilbo imagined Thorin, legs spread, unable to close them, unable to spread them further, just there for whatever he wanted to do...and that was quite enough of that, he decided, adjusting his trousers and moving on to the other set he was thinking about.

 

It was for decoration, unless it was made of mithril, and Bilbo wasn’t sure there was enough of it in the mountain for something like this. Delicate netted chains draped across the dwarf model’s arms and ankles and throat, tiny chains connecting them, and this too had suggested accessories: a cage, cunningly fashioned around a soft cock, with a...sort of hook, with a ball on the end, that traveled back from the cock and hooked into one’s ass. Bilbo stared, thinking, and realized that if the user became erect, the hook would tug on the rim of their ass, and he had to adjust his pants again. 

 

He liked them both. The artistry of the chains, and the sturdiness of the leather. 

 

A simple solution struck him, and he called Garr back over to place his order.

  
  
  
  


The day of the solstice dawned, bright and clear from the reports from the gate, but Bilbo wouldn’t see the sun that day. That wasn’t unusual anymore, though he promised himself he’d make it out to greet the sun tomorrow, the first full day of the new year. His commission from Garr had been completed and discretely delivered, and was now tucked carefully back in among the fine clothing Bilbo had brought from the Shire. Thorin never looked there for anything of his, and the staff didn’t bother either, and so it was a perfect hiding place.

 

Bombur and Dori arrived just after Bilbo was up and dressed to help ready the King’s receiving room for the celebration Bilbo had planned. Yule was observed in Erebor, and most dwarven strongholds, but wasn’t as big an event for them as for hobbits, who were finely tuned to the swing and sway of the seasons. Mountains could be mined any time of year--crops had to be planted, tended, and harvested with the rhythm of the sun’s movement through the sky.

 

But the Company had heard many a story about Yule parties on the quest to the mountain, and had asked, pleaded, and outright begged if he’d set something up. It was a long way until the next dwarven celebration, far in the spring and almost to summer when they would celebrate Erebor’s discovery and settlement, and frankly everyone was a bit bored. 

 

It helped that many of them had gold burning a hole in their pockets for the first time in their lives, and an excuse to spend some (a lot) of it on their friends and family was just the ticket in their books.

 

Bilbo had been thrilled, of course, and immediately ran off to find Bombur to plan the meal.

 

Now it was finally solstice, and Bilbo was busy hustling festive cookies in the shapes of evergreen trees and holly sprigs out of the oven while Bombur turned the spit with the boar haunch and Dori worked on hanging the beautiful garlands he’d tatted of yarn spun of green wool with pure gold.

 

Next came Fili and Kili, yawning and trying their sleepy best to snag some of the cookies. They got what was coming to them when the too-hot cookies crumbled out of their hands, not having even set, and fell to the floor. Bilbo saw them staring consideringly at the mess on the ground and snapped a towel out to catch their bums and ran them out of the kitchen before he had to see the Crown Prince of Erebor eat a cookie off the floor.

 

Bofur and Bifur showed up next, having woken with Bombur but taken the time to freshen up first before heading towards the royal apartments. They came with loads of evergreen boughs, as directed, and to Bilbo’s delight one of them actually had mistletoe clinging to it. 

 

Oin, Gloin, Gloin’s wife and son, Nori, Ori, and Bombur’s wife and little pack of rascals all showed up together, and suddenly the apartments were becoming full. Dwalin, Balin, and Thorin had last minute business to wrap up and would be there soon, and Bilbo nodded, content, as the bustle and cheer of family and friends flooded the rooms comfortingly. 

 

Many hands made short work of setting the table and finishing the decorations, and Bilbo grinned happily at the glittering tinsel and scent of pine. They’d outdone themselves--no hobbit before had ever had such beautiful baubles, blown glass and swirled metals, gemstones cut to look like snowflakes and a tiny metal bird with the most realistic metal feathers. Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin finally joined them as they began putting food to the table, and Bilbo drew Thorin down for a kiss as he took his everyday armor off. 

 

“This looks very grand,” Thorin said with a soft smile, “you’ve done an exemplary job organizing it.”

 

“Wait until you see your gift,” Bilbo murmured, “although you shan’t be opening it in front of everyone here.” Interest had Thorin drawing a sharp breath, but Bilbo pecked a quick kiss to his bearded cheek before heading back to the kitchen to finish up the gravy and the drinks.

 

All through the feast Bilbo felt Thorin’s curious looks and he smiled. Thorin couldn’t leave a mystery alone, and dearly loved unraveling surprises before their time with his quick mind and seemingly innocent questions. Bilbo was confident though that this time, he’d out-thought him, and planned to give no more hints that might be the last piece in the puzzle Thorin was trying to solve.

 

They plowed their way through the boar, the mashed taters, the million side dishes both hobbitish and dwarven. When all were groaning and sitting back from the spread, they spent a good while talking and laughing over the empty plates before they began relaying everything back to the kitchen to be stored, parted out to them to take home, or piled in the sink.

 

Next, Bilbo had informed them, came presents and mulled wine, and so they did. Bilbo only took a single cup, wanting his head clear for later activities, and was deeply pleased when Thorin looked at him, measuring, and then graciously declined the mug full that Bombur had offered. Bilbo had sworn to Thorin he’d never take advantage of him in their games, and had turned Thorin down once or twice because of it. Thorin obviously didn’t want even a remote chance of that this evening.

 

He had a general idea then of what his gift might pertain to, Bilbo thought wickedly. He let himself smirk, just a bit, and was extremely gratified when Thorin’s cheeks flushed a light pink. The smirk turned into a happy grin and Thorin grinned back, and then Fili was tossing one of Bilbo’s gifts into his face and Bilbo went down spluttering.

 

He’d often thought Fili and Kili could use a good sound spanking, actually. He had just the paddle for it, too. It was too bad dwarrow didn’t believe in corporal punishment, he reflected as he rubbed the sting from his nose and glowered. 

 

The night went on, and finally everyone started winding down. Ori was still stroking the soft skeins of yarn made of an exotic bovine species’ fur, but he was doing so slowly as he drowsed on the couch; Bofur seemed to be passing out under the table, as he usually did at parties, and Dwalin’s great bald head reflected light in slow flashes as he nodded off and then jerked awake by the fire. Bilbo started chivvying them all out, sending everyone home with packages of leftover foods and a small bag of cookies, and finally, finally, he and Thorin were alone.

 

“What a party!” Bilbo groaned, happy as he padded back towards the bedroom. Thorin walked close beside and hummed agreeably. Bilbo could almost feel the warmth of him and the casual disinterest, and smiled as he reached their room and went to--supposedly--take care of his evening ablutions. 

 

“Well, that’s better,” he sighed as he left the bathroom, and stopped suddenly. Thorin, his King, his beloved, knelt gracefully on the rug by the fire where they always began their play, naked as the day he was born and carefully holding his leather collar in hand.

 

“And that’s much better,” Bilbo said, and went over to him. He slid a hand through Thorin’s hair above his ear, loving the waves his usual braids left behind, and gave a little, playful tug. “What’s all this then?” 

 

Thorin scowled at the fire, not getting the reaction he was hoping for apparently. Bilbo chuckled at his sulking.

 

“You aren’t tired, love?” he teased his dwarf. “It’s been a long day for an old dwarf, you know. Maybe I’d better give you your gift tomorrow when you’ve rested up.” Now Thorin’s back went up a bit, the muscles tensing at Bilbo’s insult, but they’d played often this way and Thorin knew the rules: he was not to speak until commanded. Bilbo laughed, happy with his behavior, and leaned over to plant a gentle kiss on his brow.

 

“I’m just teasing, dear heart. If you want your gift now you may have it. There’s a few things I have to say first, though.

 

“This is a newer, better version of things we already have--save two pieces. Yes, it’s a full set of items! I see that curious look. I think you’ll be well pleased, and I know that I will be. I’d like to blindfold you until it’s all on, though. Is that alright? Speak, Thorin.”

 

“Yes,” Thorin said, and cleared his throat. Then again, more firmly, “Yes, please.”

 

“There’s a love,” Bilbo said approvingly, and withdrew from his pocket the soft double-gauze blindfold he’d stashed in his pocket earlier.

 

“Can you see at all? Be honest. Speak, Thorin.”

 

“Only very little,” Thorin said after a moment. “Dark shapes and movement. No detail at all.”

 

“Good enough. Stand and stretch, Thorin. You’ll be restrained a while and I want you limber.” Bilbo watched, fascinated as always, as Thorin stood carefully, and then surreptitiously tapped a heel on the floor once. It was the closest guarded secret of the dwarrow, besides Khuzdul, that they could sense their surroundings if they were on stone; the best of them could use this sense all the time, even with boots on. But Thorin had been bred for ruling, as had all of Durin’s line before him, and could only use his stone sense well if he was barefoot.

 

So it was that after that little heel-tap Thorin walked confidently to the bed and began to stretch against it as he would for sparring. Bilbo took a minute to appreciate the view and then went cat-paw-quiet over to where he’d hidden away Thorin’s gift.

 

He unwrapped the set, and set it gently on the bed next to Thorin. Thorin stilled when Bilbo laid a hand gently on his back.

 

“A little cold now, love,” Bilbo murmured, and began to drape the sparkling restraints along his chest.

  
  


Thorin’s world was shadow and light, warm cloth on his face and chill metal on his skin. Whatever Bilbo had purchased was delicate, lightweight, and warmed quickly against his body but shifted slightly whenever he did or when Bilbo moved him around. The bed was soft, cradling him as he submitted to soft touches directing him to lift himself a little, or turn this way, and he gave a contented sigh when Bilbo turned away to get something.

 

“Don’t fall asleep,” Bilbo said with a short laugh. Thorin grinned under his blindfold. “Alright, new part!” He pushed and tugged Thorin around and Thorin’s breath came a bit quicker when he found himself being put onto his front, ass in the air, with his legs slightly spread. He startled when cold metal came in contact with his cock, and he tried to think what on earth was being put on him when he realized it completely encaged it. His confusion deepened when cold oil and metal were pressed into him, gently enough that it was painless, but it wasn’t completely comfortable and he had very little idea what predicament he was now in.

 

“Alright, a moment more,” Bilbo said, and pulled Thorin up to sitting on his knees so that whatever was in him wasn’t pushing in too hard. Thorin felt Bilbo pull his hair up partially, probably back in a thick three-strand braid that Thorin sometimes put his hair in if he needed to work or when they played particularly roughly, and decided that the whole situation was very, very promising indeed.

 

Bilbo steered him off the bed and gave him a second to get his bearings on the stone floor, and then led him over to where Thorin knew was a large mirror. 

 

“Here we are,” Bilbo said, moving around Thorin to push him gently down to his knees before the mirror. He pulled his arms behind his back and lock them together--the overlarge cuffs weren’t just for decoration, then, Thorin realized, and then Bilbo was tugging the blindfold off.

  
  


Thorin had enjoyed their exploration of darker play. Leather had been the sensible choice for restraints, and had always held a connotation of security for him: his traveling gear was leather, for war was mostly leather (with metal), his gloves for working with the forge was leather. It was safety. He’d never really considered himself in anything else.

 

This was...this wasn’t just restraint. It was adornment. Tiny diamonds studded a net made of silver that spanned his chest and then draped down in looped falls, a swooping fall rounding his shoulders and both pulling back to a solid chain down his back. Thick silver plated bands encompassed his arms from below the elbow to just above the wrist, well-padded and comfortable, and similar bands circled at his ankles. Thorin stared at them wonderingly, marveling at the geometric designs laid down in platinum along the cuffs until something else caught his attention.

 

There was--Thorin stared down at his cock, brow furrowed, and leaned slightly to the side to try and see it better. He saw it shift as he shifted, and felt the piece of metal that Bilbo had inserted--realized they were connected--

 

“I wanted to just get you a more appropriate restraint,” Bilbo said, chuckling. His hobbit slid a hand under Thorin’s braid and rested it against the back of Thorin’s neck, massaging gently as he spoke. “We have our usual set, but you’re so--you deserve more. I thought this would fit better with you.”

 

“Then of course I saw this,” he went on, voice deepening. His hand moved, tracing down the chains and then reaching to tap the cock cage mischievously. The vibration traveled back along the rod connecting the two pieces and made him squirm, and he felt himself twitch against the cool silver of the cage. Startled, Thorin looked up at Bilbo, arching his eyebrows questioningly.

 

“Mm-hm,” Bilbo agreed. “I’ll get to do whatever I like to you. And the more aroused you are, the more you’ll be stretched open.” Thorin felt metal against his cock again and he nodded firmly. A few times, as he wanted to be perfectly clear. Bilbo grinned and reached down to cup his face, swiping a thumb across his cheek thoughtfully.

 

“It might get painful though, so you really ought to do your best to keep it down,” Bilbo suggested. Sweet stars, he was beautiful--jewels shining, kneeling straight and proud, determined to do his best. It was amazing that he could be so perfect while wearing nothing but what Bilbo had given him, and it made Bilbo itch to see him break--not because it would be difficult, or degrading, but because he loved seeing the core of him, and Thorin loved him doing it.

 

“Eyes forward and open,” he instructed, and began running his hands across Thorin’s shoulders where they were pulled back by his bonds.

 

Thorin closed his eyes briefly before opening them and staring into the mirror. Bilbo stroked his shoulders lightly, not delicately but just so that the sensation of his skin was clear. Up and down the side of his shoulders, and back up, then in towards his collar bones, and back up. His hands traveled further each time, returning up to his shoulders, occasionally coming up to circle his neck teasingly or pausing to thumb and pinch at a nipple. Thorin found himself more and more sensitive to it, his world narrowing down to the feel of soft skin, sharp pleasure, and the struggle to do as Bilbo asked.

 

His breath hitched when Bilbo leaned down and pressed a kiss and a lick to where the muscle of his neck and shoulder met, and he tilted his head to allow him better access without being asked. Bilbo bit down gently, rewarding him, and Thorin shivered when he also pressed forward against Thorin’s back, grinding against him through his pants. 

 

“You make the most delightful noise,” Bilbo said, and then licked along the bite mark on Thorin’s skin. “But did you know, sometimes it’s very close to the sound you make when you’re sparring, or lifting something heavy, and it’s--it’s very distracting! There I am,” he said, and paused to bite a matching mark on Thorin’s other shoulder. The tugging against Thorin’s hole was distinct now, and beginning to ache slightly, and he shifted back and forth, trying to either relieve it or encourage it, he wasn’t sure. “There I am, minding my own business, and suddenly, you have to slam a door open. And so you do, and you make that sort of grunt just the same as when you’re taking me in for the first time in an evening.”

 

Thorin’s breath came out roughly, and while he might have normally argued against such an accusation, right now he couldn’t care less--whether he did such things or not it was enough to him that Bilbo enjoyed it, and he could tell that Bilbo enjoyed it by the breathless tone of his voice and the hardness Bilbo was still pushing against him intermittently. 

 

“Having some problems here I see,” Bilbo teased, sliding his hand down again to the crease of Thorin’s thigh. He pressed the cage down gently, easing some of the pressure against his ass. Thorin sighed with relief, but was back to squirming seconds later as Bilbo reached further down to fondle his stones and it pulled more than before.

 

“A-ah,” he stuttered as his hips pulled forward, and then snapped his mouth shut, scandalized at himself. Bilbo laughed and bit down on the meat of his ribs, making him jump again.

 

“The minute I saw this,” Bilbo continued, nuzzling Thorin’s ribs lovingly, “I knew I wanted to see you in it.” Another nibble, closer to the padding of his hips. “Almost gave me a cock stand in the store! You’re just,” he reached up, rubbing against Thorin’s chest heatedly, “so  _ perfect _ .” He pinched each of Thorin’s nipples, harder this time, enough to make him gasp again. 

 

The torment began in earnest. Thorin knew Bilbo loved seeing him struggle, and it was difficult to stay still and quiet; he flinched away reflexively and forced himself back to where he was for the next pain inflicted. His mouth fell open and his breathing came out in whimpers and whines and gasps and eventually short, bitten-off pleas for more, Bilbo, oh, more.

 

He ached in his cock and his ass like he’d already been well-used, and in his mind he spiralled off into depraved imaginings of there being more than just Bilbo--there was an audience, for surely if he was dressed so beautifully it must be for a performance. Bilbo played him like a harp, more skillfully than Thorin had ever managed to learn, interspersing pleasurable touches along his stones and chest with pinching and scratching in the right intensity and duration to set him afloat.

 

Higher and higher he went until finally he reached his breaking point. It was all so good that he was far beyond words, but he struggled back up to the surface to try and communicate his desires. Bilbo would continue the way he was for a long time, unless Thorin spoke without permission.

 

“Bilbo, please,” he croaked, then cleared his throat with some difficulty. He’d been panting and it had dried his throat. Bilbo stopped, staring at him appraisingly in the mirror, and then touched him reassuringly on the shoulder before walking across the room and returning.

 

“Water first,” Bilbo said softly, and Thorin drank gratefully. A little spilled down his beard to his chest and Thorin watched Bilbo follow it before reaching over to wipe it off. “Now. You know you’re not to speak without permission.” Thorin nodded, bowing carefully forward to touch his forehead to Bilbo’s feet. It was difficult, as loose as he felt, but he managed, and Bilbo heaved a dramatic sigh.

 

“Let’s see then,” Bilbo said, and reached over his back to feel gently at the rim of his ass. “Mm, I think I could maybe…” He withdrew, reaching over to a small table nearby, and then came immediately back with oil on his hand. “Yes, I think I could.” 

 

“Let’s see how badly you’ve listened,” Bilbo said, and pushed a finger into Thorin. Thorin grunted sharply, still kneeling, and Bilbo stopped and then pushed Thorin back up to a sitting position. 

 

“Can’t have you getting hurt too badly to sit, your majesty,” Bilbo said cheerfully, and there was a small click of something unlatching under Thorin’s cock and then blessed relief flooded him as the cock cage detached from the rod leading back and up inside him. Thorin felt dizzy a moment and slouched forward heavily onto Bilbo’s shoulder and tried not to crush him as his cock throbbed near painfully.

 

“There you are,” Bilbo murmured, rubbing the back of Thorin’s neck. Concern was a strong note in his voice and Thorin knew they were probably done. “Not so long with that on next time, I think. And maybe not kneeling.”

 

“‘T was good,” Thorin managed. “Please.” He turned and sloppily mouthed at Bilbo’s neck, unable to help himself as he tried to push his hips forward into something, anything. “Please Bilbo!”

 

“Yes, yes,” Bilbo agreed, catching Thorin’s mood and pushing him back down to kneeling. “You’ll tell me if you’re not feeling well again though Thorin, or it’ll be a long time before we do this again,” he warned.

 

“‘M fine, Bilbo,” Thorin begged, “just  _ please _ , for the love of Mahal, before I  _ die-- _ ” Bilbo scoffed, but all the same Thorin felt the head of Bilbo’s dick against his hole and he groaned deeply at the feeling of flesh against him. It was so much warmer and softer and better than the metal had been.

 

“You’re amazing, Thorin,” Bilbo panted, draping himself over Thorin’s back. “Amazing. Oh, gods.” He thrust harder, and Thorin lazily tried tilting his hips back and up a little further, hoping to provide better access as Bilbo strove against him.

 

“I would give anything for this,” he rambled on, and Thorin groaned low as he pushed in against the place in him that felt best. “Soft beds, warm baths, hot meals. All of it!” Bilbo pulled out, stroking himself the last few seconds and then he was coming wet stripes against the muscle of Thorin’s ass, and Thorin came gasping after him. 

Bilbo leaned hard against Thorin’s back, trying to catch his breath and gently stroking Thorin’s back and sides as they both relaxed. Thorin, long gone boneless, finally let himself slump against the bed, close his eyes, and loose a deeply satisfied sigh.

 

“Happy Yule,” Bilbo muttered against his back, probably thinking himself clever. Thorin breathed into the bed covers, cotton cool against his skin. Bilbo finally caught his breath and pressed a kiss between Thorin’s shoulder blades before peeling off of him with a noise of disgust. Thorin listened contentedly to him pad off and putter about. He was drifting off when Bilbo returned and gently wiped Thorin off. Thorin felt distantly that he should’ve been embarrassed when Bilbo quickly checked the rim of his ass but couldn’t muster it past the bone-deep lethargy that kept him anchored to the bed.

 

There was insistent pushing at his side and he cracked an eye open to see Bilbo trying to turn him over. Thorin dropped his eye shut again and wallowed. Bilbo pushed harder, and Thorin heaved a sigh before summoning the strength to roll over. Soft hands wiped him down with a cool cloth and he sluggishly grumbled and tried to roll further.

 

“Quit it, you lump,” Bilbo said affectionately with a swat to his thigh. Thorin grumbled louder, not ready to actually speak but disliking the cold. “Ridiculous.” Thorin huffed and stretched a little before sighing contentedly. 

 

Bilbo left to put the cloth away and when he came back made the grievous mistake of sitting too close to Thorin on the bed. Thorin rolled back over and nabbed him, pulling him down and nuzzling into his hip with pleased rumbles. Bilbo laughed and pet his head lovingly and pressed kisses to his hair.

 

“Good?” he asked after a while, when he thought Thorin might be ready to talk again. Thorin hummed happily.

 

“Very good,” he said. “Very good.”


End file.
